Winter's Lightning
by Titan's Mistress
Summary: A bright flash of lightning courses through the skies of the Braavos, scaring the villagers as they warily rest in their homes or the nobles who hide away in their castles but for some unknown reason, the cry of the wind and the flash of lightning comforted her. She knew deep within her psyche was a memory, a memory long forgotten but precious to her.
1. Prologue

Prologue

Winter was a friend of hers, bringing her incomparable safety and love. She could not explain why the harsh winds and below zero temperatures did not deter her to run outside and escape Septa Mordane, Sansa and her mother's harsh scrutiny. Not even the comfort of her father's words or her brother's company could soothe the humiliation and hurt as much as the frosty embrace of winter.

* * *

He was not a stranger to the wonder and luxury that is praise, ever since he was youngling, nothing but praise would come out from his mother and father's mouths. He cherished it very much and it made him smile even more to know that Loki grew more enraged day by day because of it. Even as children, they had a competitive spirit coursing between them. But everyone knew that no matter what Loki accomplished, Thor would always be the favored son.

* * *

She couldn't quite understand why her mother wanted her to be a perfect lady. She was no good with sewing, etiquette and dancing, she could not be graceful and tact as her mother and sister, and she was nowhere near as pretty as Sansa. The attributes given to her were more Stark than Tully, with her steel grey eyes and rat's nest hair. They were nothing comparable to the startling Tully blue of Sansa's eyes or the luscious auburn hair that would flow like a waterfall down her back. These were all constant reminders that she would always be the 'other Stark girl'.

* * *

His arrogance would be his downfall, Loki would always say. No god could get away with all that destruction without there being any repercussions. Odin could see that as well. Yet he could not. He continued his mission of destruction, leading to a bloody confrontation with the Frost Giants and almost starting war. Thus he was banished to Earth, to reside in a human body and learn to be humble.


	2. A Chance Meeting

Arya

Gusts of cold wind from the north enveloped Winterfell, with it a thick blanket of snow that powdered the entire northern region. News of Lord Arryn's death reached the ears of her dear father, putting the man in a silent grieving. She had heard stories of her uncle, who raised her father and the king, who aided them in their rebellion against the mad king, who was a just lord that did everything in stride. Unfortunately, she was never given the chance to meet this lord. Eyrie was too far from the Winterfell, it would have taken a week of horse riding to get there. And her father's position as the warden of the north needed him to stay in Winterfell, to judge and to lead.

Just last month, father beheaded a traitor from the Night Watch who left his companions to die near the wall. He would not say why he abandoned them only nodding when asked a simple question. She thought he was mute.

Father wouldn't allow her to come, mother said it was not something a lady of Winterfell should ever bear to see even Sansa had to chirp a little agreement. So they left leaving her pouting and fuming while they rode across the wild tundra-like environment. Septa Mordane forced her to continue her stitches while inadvertently complimenting Sansa's work once again, what made it even more aggravating was that Jeyne Poole had to compare their works leading Septa Mordane to question her why her work resembled a kitchen rag. She had to resist the urge to stab Jeyne with the thin needle in her hand.

Too bad Septa Mordane and Sansa were watching.

* * *

Thor

He didn't know what hurt more, the skull splitting migraine or the fact that his father had banished him to this insignificant world. He supposed that it was the banishing part.

Grabbing onto a branch near him, he struggles to stand but eventually raises himself to a vertical position. He then notices that the weather was colder than what he was used to causing him to shiver. Maybe he could make a fire with Mjolnir…

He could not feel the familiar leathery handle of his beloved Mjolnir amongst the pile of snow. Panic and dread started to fill him. Father couldn't have withheld Mjolnir from him, could he? Fuck it all!

"Dammit," this was not a predicament that he would ever wish on himself.

Lurching a bit, he strains to see what is ahead of him. He could see a few riders passing through, one looked too small to be grown but the others surrounding him were all adult. One stops, making him a bit uneasy since it looked like that the rider was moving towards his direction. There was a sword on his belt and it seemed the rider was about to unsheathe it.

"State your name," the panic was starting to grow. What would he tell the rider? That he was Thor, son of Odin, Lord of war and lightning.

The tip of the sword was pointed right at his face, the steel shined under the winter air, this was no ordinary steel, something about it was too dignified for some common rider but then again he was not sure if the person before him was some common man. He knew that one wrong move would force the rider to stab him.

"I said state your name," the rider demanded once again. He couldn't completely distinguish the features of the rider but he could see the long brown threads that reached his shoulders and two mercury orbs that studied him, he saw them stop right on his armor and widen by a fraction. "Where did you acquire armor such as that?"

"Asgard," he replies.

The man's eyes widen even more. "That's impossible," he hears him mutter.

Blinding anger struck him, "I am no liar, mortal!"

The sword's tip edged even closer to his face, silencing him for a bit. He was not sure if he still retained his strength so he had to comply for now besides he could not take on a few dozen men without a weapon even if one of them was a child.

"How do you know of Asgard, boy?" the rider questions while the others have decided to surround him. Among them was the child with a wolf pup in his arms who greatly resembled the older boy beside him, it was also noted that he help two wolf pups in his arms, he mused that they may be siblings, while the boy at his back resembled the rider.

"Who is this, father?" the older brother asks.

"A wildling maybe," the father replies.

This struck a nerve with him. How dare they compare him with some illiterate mongrel? "I am no fucking wildling. I am a prince of Asgard."

Some of the riders laugh while most glare. The two older boys move to unsheathe their swords but their father stops them. "If you are a son of Asgard then show us evidence and prove your verity."

Thor uneasily stares back he just had to hope that he still retained his strength. He catches sight of a weirwood behind the rider, tall and gnarly, its branches twisting into raised claws. That should be good enough. He strides past them and slowly approaches the weirwood, let his father be kind and allow him to prove himself. With one hand, he grabs onto to the trunk and pulls it up with ease, leaving a large hole on the ground where the weirwood once stood. He sighed in relief but couldn't help but think that he could so more if he had megingjörð. The three boys riding up to him, shock plastered all over their faces.

"Who are you?" the youngest of the three asks. His face was alighted with wonder.

Amusement filled the once aggravated god. Childish awe did always please him.

"Thor, son of Odin, Lord of the hallow and storm, protector of the shrine and the one who rides alone."


	3. An Uneasy Introduction

Arya

Damn Jeyne Poole and her insufferable squawking, could she not keep that fat mouth of hers closed. She could have done so much damage on that ugly mug of hers although she was able to use an insult or two.

"Why do I even bloody care?" she whispers to herself.

Arya glanced down from her perch, her gaze resting on the comings and goings of the servants and guards. Septa Mordane had reprimanded her for her unladylike behavior while Sansa just look down at her with distaste. She hated that the most.

"Open the gates! The lord returns!" one of the guards shouts.

A loud rumble signified the entrance of her father and brothers and their men. She jumps from her perch, running as fast as she could to greet them. Once she reached the pathway, she saw that Sansa, Rickon and mother had gotten there first. Mother must have heard her running since she looks back and frowns, "Arya Stark, stop this running at once, that is not how a lady behaves."

Arya scowls in return but stops, she did not want to anger her mother any further than she had.

As her father nears, she notices that Bran is riding behind father and someone else has taken Bran's horse, a tall, muscular man with long blonde hair.

Jon, Robb, Theon and the others follow. Something catches her attention when she sees movement under the three boys' coats even Bran had something moving under his. She would ask them later.

Father gets off his horse with Bran in tow and swoops down to pick up Rickon who squeals in delight. His chubby little arms embrace father's neck while he prattles on about what he learned from Maester Aewin today. "We studies about the Targaryens today, father. From Aegon the Conqueror all the way to Aegon the unworthy," his eyes are alight with glee that infected father as well causing him to smile.

"Is that so, Rickon?" she notices that tall blonde man studying them with poorly hidden curiosity, eyes roving across the entire pathway before resting them on her. Sansa can't seem to take her eyes off the man, she would blush whenever the man would turn to look so in turn she batted her eyelashes at him but that didn't seem to faze him. Which was strange, no man could resist Sansa's charm.

"Who is he, father?" she point at the man while simultaneously catching his attention once again. Sansa frowns in displeasure, she is about to open her mouth for another sermon when father, thankfully, speaks first.

"He is a distant relative of ours," father looks to mother and gives her a nod. In return, she nods and smiles at the stranger. "He will be staying with us for the duration of the winter." Robb and John share a look like they knew something that we didn't. I would have to ask about that as well.

Though she would rather have asked about the bulges underneath their clothes instead Arya turns attention to the stranger, "Why do you only come now to Winterfell?"

The man is first flabbergasted with her frankness, looking down on her with confusion but soon the confusion morphed into mirth. A tired smile framed his face making Sansa blush even more. "Only now was I allowed to visit Winterfell, little one," she scowled. Terms such as little one or mouse annoyed her since it was no secret to everyone that she was small for her age.

"Don't call me that!" she spats. Father and the boys smile, knowing what the outcome of that unintentional insult would be, Arya did always have a horrible temper. Her mother sighed in exasperation Sansa however attempted to stop her irrational sister but was in turn pulled back by her mother. "But mother…," she whined.

"Just leave her be, Sansa."

* * *

Thor

The little she-wolf stalked towards him and for some unknown reason that intimidated him. A mere female child! Not even the jötnar or the mighty wargs could intimidate him like her. What an interesting she-wolf.

Her little fist clutches onto his cape, signifying him to crouch down so he does. And when he is finally face to face with her with those mercury orbs of hers staring down at him, he experiences an emotion that was always somewhat of an enigma to him. Entrancement.

As she glowers at him, he could not help but analyze this child that had entranced him. Dark tresses carefully tied in twin braids and a long oval face that held a strong jaw and prominent cheekbones. Yet that was not what enamored him, though he did surmise that she would grow to be a beauty, one that would amaze young men centuries later, though most would overlook her if they saw her sister, it was the strength of her character that entranced him. The conviction in her voice reminded him of the strength found in war cries of Valstrogg, her gaze as sharp as the silence and weapons of Hogum but it was Sif that was most alike with her. Their determination and spirit, their will to prove wrong the discrimination against their sex. He supposed that she must also share a love of swordplay with Fandral, he didn't know why but he had a feeling that was so but then again their brashness was unmistakably alike.

A sharp slap to his face awakens him from his musing. There was no lasting pain but he still felt the warmth from her hand when she hit him. "Stop daydreaming and listen to me!" she growls with contempt that greatly bothered him. He would never wish for the she-wolf to ever abhor him. Though the shocked faces of her family and the offended one of her sister held no importance to him, the one that mattered was the closest to him. Her father moved closer, maybe assuming that he would have hit his daughter in retaliation. The thought disgusted him because he knew that he could never hurt a child, no son of Asgard would ever think of harming a child.

"Arya." her father warily mutters.

So that was her name. "Arya," a strong name, it matched her easily.

"What?!" her hand grasps onto his hair, yanking on it hardly. He did not flinch rather he smiled this little she-wolf had so much spirit.

A hand clutches onto her shoulder, pulling her from his grasp and moving her to her brother's arms. "Enough, Arya," Jon whispers, trying hopelessly to calm the she-wolf.

The matriarch of the clan smiled tiredly at him, sending her apology for her daughter's wild behavior even though he was more amused than affronted but nonetheless he nods acknowledging the poor mother's not needed apology.

"Do please forgive my sister's wildness, good sir," he looks up to see her sister smiling down at him, she kept on blinking, why was that?

"It is of no need of an apology, my lady." He raises himself, gazing listlessly at the more proper sister. "I found her personality to be quite lovely."


	4. The King's Slap of Reality

Loki

"Was that necessary, your grace?" Sif implores, the sadness bearing down on her for losing a friend and an unrequited love. Fandral pats her arm while Volstragg and Hogun silently look down, never daring to show any insolence against their king. That was wonderful, a mere woman daring to question the king whilst three supposedly great warriors were now comparable to meek lambs. Absolutely pathetic.

Tears stream down her face as she begs for an answer from his father. What a show indeed! The ever proud Sif showing an ounce of humility, he had to stifle the smirk crawling up to his face.

"This is of no importance to you, woman," Odin responds. His one lone eye gazing down at the sniveling woman from his throne, Hlidskjalf, yet you could not see a shred of distaste only painful anguish.

'O, father, even with all the knowledge of nine worlds, you still let your heart rule you.'

"Your grace, I know it was foolish for him provoke Laufrey but such a punishment was not needed," her wails were starting to irritate his ears. Someone had to silence that wench.

The Valkyries watch warily from their place below the throne of their king, each one ready to risk their lives for the sole protection of the king. Sif wasn't the most stable of mind at the moment so he understood their wariness, Sif might be sentimental but she is a skilled fighter, a frighteningly skilled one indeed.

"Your love for him blinds you, wench. So you cannot see the aggressor's misconduct and insolence," it was only a quiet mutter but one that dared spread dread across the room. Every warrior, god and goddess within the room had petitioned for the return of Thor. Blind fools, their heads shoved way up their asses that they could not see the misdeeds of their beloved prince.

Odin walks down, never once glancing at his Lady Wife, Frigg. Loki knew that his father could not bear to see his mother miserable which Loki could not bear to do as well. He loved his mother too much to not bear seeing her cry in anguish, he was not that heartless.

"But this wench is not alone in her grief," he bellows. His voice reaches every crevice and angle in the room. "You all mourn for the exile of my son but do not see the follies that he has done. Our once fragile treaty with Jotunheimr is now broken because could not resist the allure of battle," the harshness of his tone made him cringe. That would be a harsh slap of reality for them all.

"Now, begone with you all! Only my sons and wife will remain," at once everyone evacuated the room, leaving it cold and desolate.

Loki crept from his hiding place and approached his father cautiously. Odin was not one to be trifled with when in rage. "Dear father, was that not a bit too harsh?" he may have been bitter about the inequality of attention showered over him and Thor but he did love his brother and never wished for such a punishment on him even if he now knew the origins of his birth. Mother softly walks to his side, resting her head on his shoulder. He wraps an arm around, nestling her to him. Baldr stands by them, a silent albeit glowing shadow.

"Harsh?!" father scoffs. "That was merely words of reality for a band of fools that seek to lead a fruitless conquest." True but that didn't relieve the sting of the slap in fact it only made it hurt more.

"Husband, please, he is our son," Frigg begs, more and more tears stream down, it killed him and Baldr to see their mother this miserable. "Return him to me! I beg of you."

Unfortunately, that did nothing to destroy the stony exterior of the king. It only heightened the rigid posture of their father and mother's cries of anguish. Truly, this was a dark moment for Asgard.

"I am a just god, Frigg. It is known that I rule with an iron hand but I do not condone slavery or injustice and now let it be known that I do not condone idiocy. What our son did was destroy a chance of peace we had with Jotunheimr! Not even one warrior dared stop his madness they all accepted the fact that whatever he had decided it would be done. And now, what do we have on our hands? The innocent blood of giants slaughtered within the midst of a treaty. Hundreds of lives lost and for what? For the amusement and pride of a hammer wielding oaf!" He slams the butt of his staff on the ground, sending strong vibrations across the room. Hugin and Mugen fly off their perch on Hlidskjalf and soar for the bright sky outside of the dark castle.

"But….but….," she could not speak for the grief had consumed her.

"Begone," father orders. Loki and Baldr lead their mother out of the throne room. Bringing her to her private quearter, they suspected that she wished not to see their father at the moment.

"What are we to do brother?" Baldr suddenly asks after quietly shutting the door.

Loki at first is quiet, unsure on how to answer that. He dared not revolt against his father but he still held loyalty to his brother, proving this to be quite a conundrum for the god of mischief.

"What can we do, Baldr?" he answers. "Father's decision is final. We should never question him."

Baldr face scrunches up in displeasure not once liking the truth in Loki's answer, honestly, how childish. "You cannot be serious."

"I am," he replies. Baldr and were truly alike in personality and temper, God knows, how he survived living with such hot tempered brutes such as his brothers. "It would be pointless to attempt retuning Thor to Asgard without the permission of our father."

"That is the craven man's way of thinking," Baldr snaps.

Loki had to resist knocking his brother on the side of his thick head, "no brother. It is the wise man's way of thinking and I believe that we comply lest we be mauled by father's rage.

At first, Baldr rejects the notion but soon he grudgingly accepts that what was said was true, pouting and muttering under his breath curses and his brother always had to be a know it all. Loki had to smile at the childishness of his brother. Thor and him were unmistakably brothers, "I am glad you see reason, little brother. I couldn't comprehend how it would have taken you."

Baldr's pout turns somewhat toddler like as he crosses arms, face reddening from embarrassment. "Smug bastard," he mutters.

Loki smacks the back of Baldr's head before smirking at the absurdity of it all.


	5. A Mother's Disapproval

Eddard

Death was inevitable, he knew that but it was still painful to hear the loss of a loved one.

The letter in his hand signified that passage. Written on it were the very words, 'To all it may concern, Lord Jon Arryn, Hand of the King, Warden of the East, Lord of the Eyrie, Protector of the Vale, has passed. Three moons ago, cause of death has yet to be…' He could not bear to read the rest. It all left a deep ache within his chest.

Memories of the man that took him and Robert as his wards, raising them akin to a father would treat his child, revolting against the king when ordered for their execution, fighting alongside them in the Battle of the Trident and finally serving as Robert's hand of the king. His son, Robert a meek boy of six, coddled by an overly doting mother, could not rule in his steed so he assumed that it was left to Lysa or her future spouse if she ever wished to marry again which meant men would fight for the lordship of Eyrie. These were disturbing times

Then there was the other issue of the Asgardian. The boy wore armor that was unlike anything he had ever seen and the show of strength head earlier on.

'He lifted an entire weirwood with a single hand and had thrown it over his back without a single worry.' He had not decided yet what to do about the Asgardian, too much was happening for his liking.

It was good that Cat accepted his claim calmly, her face never once doubting her husband's words.

* * *

Thor

Winterfell. Spiralling towers formed by large slabs of grey stone arching upwards, generations of Starks lived and breathed in these very halls, the entire history of Winterfell equaling to his years of existence.

He had heard below the castle walls rested the past Lords of Winterfell, each body given a stone coffin that had a likeness of themselves carved on top and beside them rested a blade that would keep their spirits within their stone prison. These traditions baffled him, they were a contraband to what he was accustomed to in Asgard. Why keep their spirits within a stone coffin when they could serve as eindejars and fight for their king.

He walks through the halls, surveying all he could see, once he even spotted the Strak, Bran, talking to the wolf pup he had had found. The other Stark had already been given their own qolf pups. He could recall every one of their expressions. Rickon's was excitement, Sansa's had been wary while Arya had been ecstatic. Her face had been the one that regaled him the most. Women in Asgard had always hated the wargs so it was a shock to see one holding the direwolf pup close to her chest while gently nuzzling it, it had warmed his heart.

"Why did you leave Asgard?" a timid voice asks.

He searches the source of the voice and finds it as the young boy standing beside him, looking up at him curiously. In his arms, he held the little direwolf pup who rested close to his chest. "Why?"

He was unsure on how to answer that since the topic of his banishment was quite a sour topic, if he were in Asgard he who have mauled anyone who dared question him about it but then again he was not in Asgard, he was in Winterfell.

"I did not leave. I was banished," he continued his walk, not caring if the boy was left behind. Though he did hear the soft thumping of boots following him, it sounded as if the boy was running which was likely since he walked in long strides.

"Why were you banished?" he asks again. He was able to catch up but not without waking the direwolf pup from its slumber. It started whining and whimpering when it felt that its master was not still anymore.

"I will not say," a gaggle of serving wenches passed him, giving him longing looks, he ignored that.

"Why?" the boy was a bit out of breath. He mused that the pup was heavier than it looked if it could easily tire the boy carrying it.

He spots the Lady Stark and her daughter walking through the halls with them the youngest Stark child. Behind them were the wolf pups who padded across the hall whilst running after the heels of their owners. He was a bit disappointed that the she-wolf was not with them. The Lady Stark notices him and smiles warmly, her hand motions for him to join them in their walk so he does with Bran trailing him.

"It is a pleasure to join you….. my Lady Stark, Lady Sansa and Lord Rickon," It was hard for him to call these people by their title, he had never showed such humility to anyone except for his queen mother and king father. The young girl reddens and delicately nods her head in acknowledgement, she and her sister were truly night and day when it came to the terms of their personalities. Rickon rushes up to him and clings onto his leg, giggling loudly as he tries to climb up.

"A pleasure shared as well, my grace," her eyes twinkle with mirth as it suddenly dawns on him. 'She knows.'

Sansa gazes at her mother, confused. "Your grace? Mother shouldn't it be my Lord?"

Lady Stark daintily places her hand over her lips and giggles, "A slip of the tongue. I apologize."

"Not needed, My Lady. It was a simple mistake," he smiles to assure that he was not offended though he knew that it was more for Sansa than Lady Stark. He disentangles himself from Rickon, the boy had already reached his waist and was stepping all over his armor. He lifts the child over his head and onto his shoulders, exciting the little Lord. Bran sticks to his side, there were questions in his eyes, question he knew that would be asked later.

"Do you enjoy your stay here in Winterfell, my Lord?" he looks down to the blushing Lady Sansa, she had the features of her of her mother, deep auburn hair with bright blue Tully eyes. Before he had ridden to Winterfell with Eddard, the man had warned him to not speak of his origin to anyone except for the men with them and his family. They had also conjured a story of his origin after an extensive talk and history lesson.

"I do. Winterfell is a marvel," the dark icy walls and jocose atmosphere reminded him of the spiraling ice towers in Jotunheim. It brought back bitter memories for him.

"I mean the company, my Lord," the girl says. Her eyes adamantly longing for answer.

The yearning unnerved him but he did not wish to offend the girl since he was a guest here. "I have good company around me."

The girl's suggestive question was not lost to her mother's attention, her bright blue orbs shining crossly at the young girl. Thor took that as a sign to evacuate their presence.

"I must leave you now…, my Ladies," he bows. "But I thank you for your time." He carries Rickon off his shoulders and deposits him right beside his brother before departing, not wanting to see the scolding the mother would give her daughter.


	6. Arya's Understanding

Bran

"No! Don't run," Bran shouts as his little direwolf pup runs amok across Winterfell, biting guards and tripping serving maids. "Stop!"

He had chased the pup for over an hour now after it had sprinted when Thor left his mother and sister. Though he was thankful that it did since he did not want to witness his mother scolding Sansa over something that he couldn't understand, honestly, women are too strange. Thank god Arya isn't like that.

The pup was now running to the stables, narrowly missing getting crushed by a large wagon that almost tipped over it. It proved to be too quick to catch and stubborn which was hilariously synonymous with Arya.

'May the lords give me luck to catch the little terror,' he prays to the skies above.

It was getting even faster as it ran towards its target although he was not sure what it was running to. All he was sure of was that the target was in the stable.

Pushing himself to move faster, he tries to quicken his running before the pup might reach the stables. He was nervous that the pup might bite on the horses there which in turn anger them and force them to either stomp or kick the pup. He wasn't taking any chance of that happening.

"Come back here!" he shouts.

The pup ignores the call and has safely made it inside the stable. Bran feels his blood run cold as he hears the horses neigh in protest.

Wasting no time, he sprints to the stables, jumping over any obstacle that may block his way. He reaches the stable and quickly runs inside, searching for the direwolf pup only to find something he didn't expect.

Arya was holding the pup in her hand while her own pup was safely aboard her head. His pup was yapping and nipping at Arya's fingers but she didn't mind instead she laughed, holding the pup close to her chest. Nymeria lazily looked down at her master and brother before returning to her nap.

"What?" Arya notices him standing by the stable, her face still alight with happiness.

"Bran, your pup really is a wild one. Isn't he?" she laughs. And for some reason it was contagious even after all the running and chasing he had to do, he couldn't find it in himself to be mad anymore. But why did it run to Arya?

He walks up to his sister, his head full of questions as to why the pup did what he did.

'I should stop musing over this, I should be glad that it's not hurt.'

Arya returns the pup to him and reaches for Nymeria above her head. The pup whines a bit but nonetheless complies with her master. He made a note of that. Wolf pups may be playful but when disturbed during their slumber, they will tend to whine and be cranky.

"You ran after it, didn't you?" Arya asks.

He feels his cheeks reddedn with embarrassment, "How did you know?"

She snorts, "I heard you shouting outside."

He winces a bit, not realizing how loud he was. "It was that loud?"

"Yeah."

He buries his face in the pup's fur, stifling his groan of embarrassment. If Jon, Robb and Theon were to ever hear of this, they would no doubt laugh. "I hope that they don't hear about this."

Arya doesn't say anything, she knows already who they were and she knew what they were capable of. "It will spread," she warns.

He stifles again another groan, "I know."

"They'll never let this down."

"I know."

She pats his head, Bran feels understanding from the touch. Arya was also a favorite victim of the trio though they were much softer on since she was their precious sister, well, except for Theon. He adored annoying the girl.

Bran felt glad that he had a sister like Arya, he did love Sansa but she was too proper and girly, Arya was a friend, a confidant and companion, some he knew would be loyal to the end.

"Arya," he whispers

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

He could almost feel her smile.


	7. A Brother's Worst Nightmare

Eddard

Uncertainty washed over him as he read the letter from King's Landing, on it was the official seal of the king, the stag of Baratheon. The contents of the letter told of the king's impending journey towards Winterfell and his wishes to speak about the death of Jon Arryn and what the loss of the hand would do to Westeros. With him will be his Lady Queen, Cersei Lannister, their children and the Queen's brothers Ser Jaime Lannister and Lord Tyrion Lannister. They will be arriving in week's time.

Maester Luwin had the same uncertain look on his face, years of service and stress showed as lines on the maester's kindly face. "My Lord, if I may speak?" the maester inquires.

"You may," he replies.

"I fear that this would not be a most joyous occasion for any of us here in Winterfell," the man looked smaller and paler under the low light of the torch. "This could mean the reinstating of a new hand of the king."

Eddard knew of those possibilities, Robert was never close with his brothers Stannis and Renly and would most likely not choose from anyone of them causing a larger rift between the siblings. The only logical choice that Robert would choose as hand would be Lord Tywin Lannister, the once hand of the mad king.

"Tywin would be a fair hand," he mutters.

Luwin did not seem to agree, "my Lord, I feel it would not be Lord Tywin who will retake the place as hand of the king. The king might choose someone he trusts." There was lingering feeling of uneasiness in the maester's voice, Eddard had also felt it when the prospect of being hand reached him.

"There is nothing I can do about that," he places the parchment back on the table. He could not bear to look at it anymore for it entailed great trouble for him. "May the gods be merciful."

Maester Luwin nods at that, a solemn look of despair on his face. "May they be."

* * *

Robb

The clang of swords hitting one another rang like a sweet symphony to his ears, as the blades clashed and screeched with every touch, they brought forth a moment of adrenaline within his body.

He sidesteps from Jon's incoming blade before slashing at his abdomen, Jon moves back quickly, twisting his sword before parrying back all of Robb's attacks. Robb lunges forward, he had noticed that Jon had left his stomach open for attack yet he doesn't see the blade pointed already at his own stomach.

"Dammit! Jon. How fast can you be?" he curses at his brother. Jon has a smug smile on his face but doesn't say anything. He was never one to brag about his skills.

"Fast enough to stab you in the stomach, Robb," they return their blades to Ser Rickard before walking back to the dining hall. It was almost supper time and mother would be most likely mad when she sees he is late for dinner. Though she wouldn't mind if Jon was not present during dinner, the thought always brought a scowl to his and Arya's faces.

Grey Wind nipped at his fingers, a sign that he was hungry. Ghost was silent beside Jon, his red eyes watching everything with a certain melancholy.

As they walked, they noticed Thor with Arya. The tall blonde man was smiling as their sister excitedly recalled her day of practicing archery and riding out of Winterfell with their father, Nymeria padded after, sometimes nipping at the heel of Thor or Arya. It had been a few moons since Thor had arrived at Winterfell and in those few moons he was able to earn the friendship of Arya who was not prone to be friendly to others, the feat was indeed remarkable for many. Thor was a good friend to him, Jon, Bran and Rickon as well it was only Sansa whom he avoided which made his sister very envious and mad.

But the sight of his little sister happy made him forget about Sansa's petty jealousy though it did stir a bit of jealousy in his and Jon's heart to see their sister's attention placed on another person.

Arya was not enamored with the Asgardian like their sister Sansa was, she was more of interested with the tales he had of his homeland, sometimes Bran would join their talks, the two children listening intently to the story.

"Arya! Thor!" he calls out. They both glance at him Arya's smile grows wider as she rushes over to him and Jon. Thor follows behind, his smile still intact. Nymeria greets her brothers with an array of barks and joins them as they rest beside their masters.

Jon opens his arms as Arya pounces right at him, he doesn't tumble as she lands on him since she's too skinny to weigh more than a few stones. Robb snatches her from Jon's arms and crushes her to his chest before putting her down.

"Robb, we were just looking for you two, mother says there is important news to announced," she says excitedly.

He and Jon already knew about the news, father had told them a forth night ago, Thor was present as well. The king and queen were to come to Winterfell with their children and the queen's brothers. They would most likely discuss on the death of Jon Arryn and the new replacement of the hand. The news brought no joy for him, he did not like the feel of these southerners even if they were the king and queen.

He brings a smile to his face, he did not wish to bother with these negative thoughts, she was still a child and had no need to bother about topics like those, let her be young and happy. "We were on our way to dinner ourselves. Why don't we go there together," he suggested.

Arya nods happily and runs towards the dining hall, the three pups tailing behind her.

"You shouldn't hide her from topics such as these," Robb turns to the tall Asgardian. "She's more mature than you think."

Robb scowls at the man, "I know that she is no sensitive little girl but she is still a child and deserves to be ignorant even if for a short time."

The Asgardian crosses his arms, the muscles there bulging, the man would never be dared called weak that's for sure. "She will find out soon and she will understand that this might lead to her betrothal with either of the princes or a southern lord."

It brought him no respite to hear those words, in a few years time, Arya would be betrothed to some southern lord. Sansa was sure to attract the attention of the princes with her Tully looks and she was eager to marry. It was Arya who would no doubt rebel against the idea.

"We have no choice. Arya is of noble blood and will likely marry as you say, she can do nothing but comply," Jon answers. He was the closest with Arya and it hurt him the most to know that his fiery sister was to be tied down to some lord and lose the wildness that made her Arya.

Thor's eyes soften, he must have understood why they had to do this. "I will respect your wishes but it does not mean I'm happy with them."


	8. A Challenge of Wit

Arya

Flecks of snow dwindle down as they waited for the arrival of the king. Her father stands in the middle of the waiting party with mother and Robb to his right and left. She is placed on the side of her brother with their remaining siblings, Theon and Thor. Mother disapproved of Jon joining us in the line but she had begged and pleaded that her mother, grant her this wish and thank the gods it was granted.

The warm fur cloaks embrace her entire figure fully and shield her from the icy chill of winter. Nymeria waits at her side, whimpering occasionally when she was impatient to wait for the king. Arya had to quiet her or else her mother would have her wait in the back.

"This king and queen," Thor starts. "Do they rule wisely? Are they worthy rulers?" The question is met with questioning glares from her mother and Robb but father only gives him a stern gaze.

She considers the question for a moment. She had never met the king and queen but she had heard stories about the mighty King Robert and the fair Queen Cersei. How the king had fought and defeated Rhaegar Targaryean after he had abducted her aunt, Lady Lyanna. She was found dying in the tower of joy by her father. Yet there were other tales of the king, tales that describe him as a fat drunk that did nothing but wench and hunt while his kingdom starved. She tried to ignore those since it would insult her father.

"I have heard that King Robert is a just king and is a mighty warrior with his war hammer," she notes that Thor snorts at the mention of the war hammer but chooses not to bother with it. "And that he fought valiantly to save my aunt but was too late."

Thor listens intently, his face a stolid mask. "And what of the queen?" he asks.

She doesn't reply. She has nothing to say about the queen for she has heard nothing about the queen except for her beauty which did not interest her. "She is fair."

A smile reaches his face, a smile small enough to go unnoticed by her family. "I take it that the queen does not interest you that much." It was more of a jest than a question.

"She is queen that is all I have to say about her."

She hears a rumble of hooves approaching Winterfell. Signifying that the king is nigh. The gates are opened and she sees the riding on his large destier, leading the group with him. The mighty steed storms inside the gates, agitating the pups. Behind the steed follows a man with golden locks adorning a white cloak which meant he was of the kingsguard, he rides by the side of a large carriage. The king pulls at the reins of the horse, halting it, the carriage and blonde haired kingsguard copies the action as they stop behind the king.

The king struggles to get off his horse but is eventually able to get down thanks to the help of the kingsguard.

Thor looks amused while he watches the king. She expects that he is comparing him to his father, the king in Asgard.

"Ned!" The kings walks towards them and her father follows his example but not before bowing. Thor stiffens but bows with us. He is not happy showing obeisance.

Father raises his head and smiles. "Your grace," he greets.

The king scowls. "There is no need with the use of such formalities when with old friends." He claps father in the back. A friendly greeting of sorts though she found it too rough for normal standards. 'Father is a strong man, he would not flinch.'

Father studies the man before looking back up, a smirk atop his face. "Quite so, though it hasn't escaped my attention that you have grown fat," he comments jokingly. If it were another who said that, she felt that they would have gelded there and now.

Instead the king smiles back, laughing boisterously. Behind him, the carriage door opens and out steps out the queen and her sire and her brother, the imp. She is as regal as they had said but there was certain haughtiness that she disliked. The look the queen gave her surrounding was that of disdain and that infuriated her.

Father bows to her and her sire. "Your grace," he says. Father raises his head, a solemn stare on his face. One of the princes sneers at father, a smug look on his weasel face.

"Little shit," she whispers. Thor smirks at the comment but stays silent. She sees the queen linger her gaze on Thor, appraising him as if he were some pony for show, as she saunters towards her husband.

The imp smiles up to them all and Arya can't help but feel that she would take a liking to this little man. The intelligence in those different colored orbs intrigued her.

"Ned, I would like to see the crypts," the king orders. The queen looks appalled at the thought and voices her complaints, "My love, it has been a long journey. Should you not wait until you have rested?"

Her complaints were not heard as the king proceeds to walk to the crypts. Father gives the queen an apologetic smile. She retaliates with a sneer, one that Arya would very much like swipe off her face.

As the king and her father leave, the group that had been awaiting the king has scattered, all returning to their posts. Mother and Sansa direct the queen and her sire to their rooms with the blonde haired man tailing them, the imp decides to walk around so he may gaze upon the sights of Winterfell. She follows her brothers, Theon and Thor to the training ground, they wanted to get a little sparring underway.

"Friendly lot, aren't they?" Theon states, a large grin rests on his face.

Robb scoffs, "is friendly now the word that describes their shit personalities, Theon?"

Theon shrugs, not really caring at all.

"The prince has the shittiest personality of them all," she whispers. No one seems to have heard her whisper since no one looks.

"Quiet, little wolf, the lions might hear," the tone of Thor's voice is playful but there is a hint of warning.

"The lions haven't ears everywhere," she retorts.

"I care to differ, my lady," standing before them was the imp. A rather short man with stunted, stubby legs and a wide forehead, his hair is the usual Lannister gold, his attire of that of a wealthy noble but it was his eyes that interest her the most. A pair of mismatched green and black orbs. "We Lannisters do have ears everywhere and I have proved that for I have heard your rather hurtful comment about my nephew. I also did not miss your comment, Lord Robb."

Robb moves to intervene, his face pale, she supposed he thinks that the imp might tattle us to the queen which might lead to us facing the fury of the bitvh queen. Although she senses he wouldn't even attempt the act, perhaps he might loathe the prince just as she does. "And does that insult you, my lord?"

Jon and Robb glare but the imp only smiles, "well, my lady, I cannot say that I am insulted but I assure you my sister would be and she would have your pretty little head cut off if she were to hear."

"And from where would she hear this ghastly comment from, my lord. From you?" in a mock sense of atonement, she bows her head, as how a shameful child would.

"Not from me, but maybe from those ears that you deny exist," he quips. She knows he doesn't believe her little act, she concludes that he's too smart to not notice the lack of remorse in her bow or the slight upturn of her lips.

She raises her head, "then I pray that the gods may be merciful." She sees a challenge in his eyes, a challenge of wit and vindication. "But if they were to hear, then may the others take the man who dares tell."


	9. A Royal's Venom

Baldr

"This is madness! Madness, Sif. Madness!" Volstragg roars with impending fury. His large fists slam onto the table, shattering it to pieces. His nostrils flare as he stares down the raven haired warrior. Bladr could see his hands twitching. He senses they were itching to beat some sense in their comrade.

Unfortunately, Sif does not take well to being reprimanded like a child. Instead she answers with an equally stubborn glare. "If you wish not join this venture, Volstragg, then I simply ask that you leave the premises at once," she snaps coldly.

Volstragg's stare now turns into an all out glare at her words. Baldr did not know anymore if this was the same Sif that he knew.

"You do not know what this will lead to, girl," standing to his full height, he easily over towers her, an intimidating force. Sif discredits that. But her face does soften with misery when she stalks towards him.

"Are you not his friend, Volstragg? His comrade?" she clutches his hands. "If you are, join me. Help me get back a friend that is lost. A friend that we are capable of saving. Heimdall will allow us passage through the Bifrost. I'm sure of it," Fandral snakes his arm around her shoulders, pulling her to him. Sif nuzzles her head on his chest, a sign of their newly formed relationship. It started after Thor had been banished and he had his suspicions that Fandral's affections were not returned.

Valstrogg looks repentant of his actions and seems to agree with-

"O, do stop your insipid whining, woman," all eyes turn to Loki and Baldr couldn't help but feel relieved that he had brought Loki to the meeting. Loki was a key member in the group and surely the others would listen to reason if it came from him. Thor was always the brawn, Loki was the brains and he was the charm so it was no surprise that they were the most beloved in all of Asgard.

Sif's face scrunches up in distaste and Fandral's grip on his sword hilt tightens, he seems ready to slice Loki as where he sits.

Loki is disinterested with their reactions, his eyes, two smoldering coals that burned with a distinctive fury. He was always the one that hated idiocy. "Your little façade of helping a friend is utter bullshit," brother stands, his posture straight and rigid as he stalks towards the pair of lovers and gullible Volstragg. "Your reasons would only convince a fool."

"I see the true reasons of your lunacy, wench." He captures a lock of Sif's hair and twirls it with his fingers. Fandral pulls Sif even closer to his chest, his actions was that of a jealous lover. "Unrequited love is a terrible thing is it not, Sif? The empty pain of knowing that your supposed friend and leader can never return you girlish fantasies of love just hurts. So it's no wonder that you suddenly decide to sleep with our very own Fandral," with a certain dramatic flourish he sweeps his hand in Fandral's direction.

A fist launches itself at Loki and almost collides but brother has already projected himself to a safer part of the room. The owner of the fist seethed and growled, his eyes a fixed a glower on Loki.

Red stained the cheeks of Sif, tears running down her alabaster cheeks, her arms clenching onto the tunic of Fandral.

"Fandral, how crude of you. Punching at me out of nowhere while I was unaware is simply cowardly," a slight chuckle emits from Loki's lips. "And I apologize if you cannot accept truth that is clear to anyone's eyes."

Loki turns to Sif, "and to you my dear wench, your pitiful show of adoration is simply degrading. You may preach and whine all you want but that does not assure you in his heart, it will only show more of that obsession you hold for him."

Sif storms out of the room and is followed by Fandral but not before sending a scathing glare to Loki.

"Was that wise, Loki?" the raspy murmur of Hogum brings a more a soothing touch to the room after all the harsh utterances it's witnessed. Volstragg sits down on the abandoned chairs by the broken table, his demeanor was that of man with all the troubles of the world on his shoulders.

Baldr leans further on the wall, putting all of his body weight on the hard surface. He needs a bit of rest after that.

"And what do you think, Hogum?"

A pregnant silence follows.

"It was unkind..," seconds of silence. "But there is always truth in harsh words."

The four of them stayed on their places, unsure of what to make of the situation. Baldr knew that Loki had reasons for his actions, Loki was not brash, he studied and analyzed, seeking favorable decisions in his favor. Sif would have to understand through time that her venture was madness and needed to be stop before it has even started.

* * *

Frigg

Shouting and cursing were the only indication that Frigg needed to know that it was Sif and Fandral coming her way.

"That ice hearted bastard will pay for this humiliation, I swear it!" she heard Sif shriek. Soft whispers reply in return, she suspects they were a compilation of charms and adorations that are sadly answered with a loud, "Quiet."

The raven haired goddess and her adoring lover could be heard across the entire hallway. Servants and warriors alike turned their heads to the sound of shouting and cursing but returned to their earlier actions once they saw her.

"He is nothing but a worm hiding behind Thor's shadow!" Sif bellows.

Frigg has to resist the urge to snap at the offending sentence against her son. She had expected more from the goddess.

"I will stab-," "Sif." Her voice jolts the enraged goddess from her ranting. They turn their heads to her and immediately bow.

"My….queen..I," she tries to speak.

"Save me the apologies, girl. I have heard everything," Frigg snaps. Her temper had suddenly risen when she heard the insult directed to her son. "And I've come to warn you that if you continue to flap that mouth any longer, I will be forced to slice it off myself."

Fear appeared once on the girl's face, her lover stood by her side, silent and rigid as a rock.

"It be best to keep it shut, no?" Frigg forms a queenly smile on her face. But everyone could sense the hostility from it. "Before something unfortunate may happen."


	10. A Lad's Decision

Jon

"You seem to be in deep thought there, boy," A struck of realization hit him when he realized he was not within his private quarters and not by himself. Glancing to the source of the voice.

"Uncle," he deadpans.

The man pats him in the back as a greeting before seating himself on the chair beside Jon.

"How do you fare in the wall, uncle?" Jon asks.

"Can't say it's the most comfortable place I've resided in."

He grabs the goblet in front of him and gulps down the contents. Jon retrieves his own goblet filled with Arbor Gold. It was rare that he got to drink wine but feasts gave him the chance.

His attention moves to his sibling in the front of the dining hall. They sat with the king and his family. His father sat beside the king while Lady Catelyn sat to his right. The queen scornfully watched the feast from her seat beside the king. Robb, Bran and Rickon are chatting with the prince Tommen and princess Myrcella. Sansa is dreamily staring at her betrothed as he regales her with tales, Jon pondered on why Sansa would fall for the little shit.

He searches the table for Arya and finally spots her sitting next to Thor. Her face alit with laughter as they spoke. The older man continues to smile with her, occasionally ruffling her hair.

Jon had to ignore the deep sadness dwelling within his chest. Soon the Asgardian would take his place beside her and he would be powerless to do anything. That hurt. His position as bastard befitting him to sit as far away as possible from his siblings.

"I see that you've also noticed your sister's closeness with the Asgardian," father must have told uncle about their 'lost relative'. "Couldn't believe my ears when your father told me. But then again, Eddard is never one to jape."

Surreptitiously glancing at his neighbors, none seem to be listening to the conversation so he looks back to his uncle. "It's not safe to talk about such topics here."

Amusement twinkles in Benjen's eyes as he guffaws. "Good gods! You're just like your father. Wary wherever he goes. You even have the same look."

Joy swells in his chest when he hears that. Even if he is a bastard, he and Arya were still the most alike with father. His other sibling all resembled their Tully sire. He reaches for the goblet, swirling the contents.

"Join the black," his uncle says.

He looks from his goblet towards his uncle. Eyes widened in shock. "The black?"

"Even bastards can earn honor if they join the black," Jon could hear the pity in his uncle's voice. "It be a good chance to escape from Lady Catelyn's glare and your brother's shadow."

The words hit him.

All that was said was true.

"You are of age," his uncle adds.

"When can I take the black?" He immediately asks.

"By the next moon. If your father allows it."

Jon takes time to weigh those words. If he were to take the black that would mean leaving his life here, leaving Arya and Robb.

'They would understand.'

"I will inform father tonight. After the feast," he replies.

His uncle nods at that, gulping down his own goblet.

"There are worse places to be than the black." He pauses. "You'll see."


	11. A Sister's Rage

Arya

She had to bite back the string of insults and denial just waiting to be released. It was not fair! How could this all happen?

"Arya," her father crouches down in front of her. His hand resting on her head. "I know this seems cruel."

She doesn't answer that. Her only reply would be the frustration and glare evident on her face. Father's face grows wearied at the sight.

"As hand, I must travel for King's Landing with the king. Sansa is betrothed to the crown prince so she must travel as well."

The inexplicable obscenities she wishes to shout at her sister are overwhelming but she holds that in once again. "Then why must I come?"

Lord Eddard Stark lets out a weary sigh before looking solemnly at his youngest daughter. "As her sister, you will be somewhat of a handmaiden of hers and you will learn proper etiquette and behavior of a lady of the court."

Perplexing situations and plans come to her head. How could she escape this? Would Jon help her escape? Maybe, Thor?

"Bran will be coming with us so you will not feel that lonely," her father tries to reassure her but that does little to eliminate the crushing misery. "Robb and Rickon would have to stay in Winterfell, of course. Your mother as well. Though Thor might accompany us."

She couldn't look at her father, she didn't want to show weakness in front of father. Damn it all!

"I do hope that you can understand this," he is pleading. She can hear it in his voice.

The need to reject the idea is too great. But no. She couldn't.

"I understand, father," she dejectedly accepts.

He pats her head and lays a kiss on her forehead. A thought pops into her head. "What about Jon?"

Father freezes in mid step, eyes lowering to the floor. His hands behind his back.

"Jon has already left by that time."

The blow of those words is too painful for me to even say anything. It left a deep hole within her chest.

'Jon is leaving...'

"Why?"

A pregnant pause. "For the black."

She clenches her fists in indignant fury. This was the bloody last straw!

She stomps away from her brother to violently open the door and slam it in her rage. Her only mission now is to find her annoying beloved brother. And question him for not acknowledging to her his journey for the black.

'Jon.'

The training grounds were empty and so was his chambers. This infuriated her so.

Though the clatter of a sword hitting solid rock disturbs her thoughts. Mercury orbs search for the its source until finally she reaches her destination. The beholder of the sword stands by the Godswood, face obscured by the dark.

"Jon," she calls out.

The figure swerves his head to her direction, angling it right enough for the moonlight to hit his face.

"Arya," he answers.

She rushes to him, enveloping him in a hug. Now she could let out her rage in its finest.

Punching him felt incredibly good.

"You fool," another punch to his chest. "Traitor." A swift jab to his chin. "Liar." Mage almost socks his stomach but is stopped his strong grasp.

"Arya," there is a weariness to his voice. One she is entirely used to hearing.

"Why Jon?"

Sadness grips his face, masking it more from her sight. "Even bastards can achieve honor, Arya."

This confuses her greatly. "What are you talking about?!"

Eyes much akin to hers stare back. The same piercing silver glare of her father. Yet you could see the guarded tears. "You know what I speak of, sister."

"Do I?" Blinding fury is all that she can feel.

"You do," callused hands encompass her face, caressing it in the process.

Her eyes look down, not bearing to see her brother this weak. "You could come with us to King's Landing."

"I can't." The words just broke her heart.


	12. A Brother's Fall

Bran

The thrill of climbing urged to climb higher and higher, below him the servants and guards continued on with their daily duties. He's above all them now, watching them all with a careful eye.

'If only Arya could join me.'

His sister had been miserable the last few days. The news of Jon's departure was truly saddening for them all but it was Jon's decision and he wouldn't try to stop his brother. That didn't mean that his sister would be appeased, she had even punched Jon right on the jaw though Jon didn't try to defend himself. 'The guilt must be too much.'

Without realizing it yet, his foot had slipped on one of the gray slabs, leaving him dangling from the wall. His only chance of survival was the pole on the side of the wall that he is holding onto. Quickly, he fixes his foot. Digging it into the gray slab to make sure that there will be no repeat of his mistake. 'Thoughts like that will only get me killed.'

He climbs up, being more careful in his movement. He's almost to the top when he hears strange sounds coming from the window. Moaning…and groans of pain?

It perks his interest, making him climb faster to see what was making these sounds. He hauls himself up silently so as to not disturb those inside. Raising his head a bit, he can now peek inside. And what he sees shocks him very much.

The queen and her brother.

She is on all fours, her face is flushed and she seems to be the source of the groans. Behind her is her brother who is moving behind her. They are both naked and are oblivious to their surroundings. 'What are they doing?'

The queen opens her eyes and green orbs instantly catch him watching her. She shrieks, rousing her brother from his state of state of ecstasy. Ser Jaime looks shocked as well to see him.

"Get him! Get him! He's seen us!" the queen continues to shriek. It hurts his ears.

Ser Jaime grabs onto his tunic, pulling him from his hiding place and into the room. Recognition sparks in his eyes. "Your Eddard's son."

"What are you doing?!" The queen snatches her robes and covers herself with it. "Kill him. He will most likely tattle to his father."

Annoyance blooms in the knight's eyes as he glances at his sister. Bran thinks he's reluctant to follow his sister's orders. But why would they need to kill him, what were they doing that they needed to hide it from father.

"He's just a boy," the knight whines.

"He's a Stark. The son of that righteous bastard," replies the queen. Her eyes are narrowed into two green slits. They look to be a snake's eyes.

A look of pity crosses the Ser Jaime's face. He lifts Bran to the air and onto the window. "The things I do for love," he mutters.

With a push, he falls. Bran feels the air then ground. He tries to keep his eyes open but it hurts so much. Maybe a few hours of sleep will make it go away. Yeah, it might.

The last thing he hears before sleeping is the howl of a direwolf. Huh, the howl seems familiar.

Arya

In those very moments dread filled her heart. Her pack. Someone from her pack was harmed. But who? She searches for the harmed the pack member but to no avail.

Her dread mixes with the cry of anguish of the direwolf. The howling sounds like Summer's.

'Bran.'

No.

No!

No!

She runs.

Faster!

Bran!

She runs through the halls, ignoring the servants who look at her curiously. She passes Robb and Thor who are conversing by the armory but she pays them no attention. Bran is her priority now. They call her out, noticing her disposition. She closes them off. She has to find Bran.

She looks up to the towers, hoping to see Bran there. Safe and climbing.

'I can't see him.'

She runs and runs, following only the sound of Summer's howling.

It leads her to her destination.

Because she sees her brother. A broken body.

Sprinting to him, she shouts his name, trying her best to rouse him from his sleep.

'He couldn't have fallen.'

Her brother never opens his eyes even when Robb and Thor came followed by maester Luwin. They tried to pry him from her grasp but she scratched and hissed until they finally had to comply to her wishes. She helped carry his body to the medic bay. Never once letting go of his hand.

'Please be safe.'


	13. A Glimpse of her Feelings

Arya

She hated these circumstances very much. Journeying to King's Landing was a pain her arse, it didn't help that Bran was back at Winterfell, still so frail from his fall and not conscious. That pained her the most. Her only saving grace in the journey was that Thor was with her as one of the convoys of her father. He would be her only friend through the entire journey. The moment they arrived at King's Landing, she hated the place.

Beyond the Red Keep, there was Flea Bottom. Where those who lived in poverty begged and worked, they had pass through there to reach the Red Keep and there she saw blacksmiths pounding away on the hunks of steel, the merchants selling their products, the whores who would sell their bodies for any price and the starving children would beg but were ignored.

Her father's envoy and her were given one of the towers to reside in, she and her sister were assigned different chambers by her father. Thor was given a chamber a level lower than theirs. He would be her guard through her entire stay in the Red Keep.

Though their move to the King's Landing didn't stop their septa from continuing on their lessons on sewing and all that shit. Of course, she did her best to escape those lessons with the help of Thor who would aid her in her excuses in not being able to attend her lessons.

"Honestly Arya, you are such child," Sansa chastises her once again while they are breaking fast. "Escaping lessons with the help of Thor, I have no idea why he would indulge your childish whims. A man like he would be more fit to be my guard."

Her constant babbling on that greatly irritated Arya, why couldn't she give it a rest?

"Why sister? So you may flirt and prance like a cat in heat, while your loving betrothed is not looking," it came out more harsh than she wanted. Sansa's hurt and embarrassed face ebbed even further into her guilty heart. The tears flowed down her sister's face.

Thor watches them warily, his body stiff. Arya would have to apologize to him later for using him as an insult to her sister.

"Arya!" Septa Mordane scolds but that she doesn't bother looking. It's her sister that holds her attention.

"I wish you never came," she snaps. "You should have never been brought here. You're not fit to be a lady." Minutes trickles by as her sister continues crying. "You're nothing but a filthy little child that has no manners and charm." She rushes out of the room after that with Jeyne and the Septa in tow, bringing with them all the noise that swallowed the room, leaving her, Thor and the guards quiet in the midst of an unfinished meal.

"Tch," she glares down at her meal. She would not be the assailant here, it was not her who instigated the fight but her airhead of a sister who could notkeep her damn mouth shut. Though that didn't mean that those around her would side with her, they would always support the prettier and more lady-like sister.

"Arya," she feels a hand on her shoulder. Unexpected sadness shifts within her, urging on even more the hate and loathing she held for her more attractive sister. Was it her fault that she was not born with tact and grace needed by a lady instead she was bestowed the temper and mind of a young girl wishing to be freed from her shackles.

"You heard her," this was a new low for her, having to defend herself when she was not the one at fault. "I should have never come." Swiping the knife from its place beside the plate, she immediately cuts into the piece of meat before her while doing her in enlarging the façade of ignorance around her.

"I heard clearly what she said."

Quiet footsteps signify the departure of the other guards most likely father had sent orders for them to come to him. "Then why must you pester me about it?"

The meat was tender and matched her pallet, the synchrony of the spices made it even more appetizing. The seat beside is lifted from under the table and moved to fit for sitting purposes. "Would you call that pestering?"

She takes another bite, savoring the flavor. "I would consider it pestering if you continue to look at me with disappointment."

A pragmatic sigh is released, "You're too young to be this cynical."

The meat seemed to blander now, strange, she was just enjoying its flavor a few seconds ago. "Is that so?"

She twirls the knife between her middle and pointing finger, watching it twist under her order. Maybe the pudding would taste better.

"Practicing your swordsmanship?" his tone incited annoyance.

"Maybe," she drops the knife and moves to retrieve the pudding. But he was faster.

"Give it to me," she whines. He was not supposed to be doing, siding with Sansa and invoking her rage. She didn't like these feeling that followed after those thoughts. They made her even angrier.

"I can do as I please, my lady."

Deep loathing pools down to her stomach, inflaming the almost tamed temper. "Stop that."

"Stop what?" he takes a spoon and dips it into the pudding before carefully tasting the pudding. Distaste wracks his features and he instantly returns the spoon and pudding to the table.

She wanted to scream, to punch and to rant at the unfairness of it all. Yet she didn't, for she knew that it would only prove to be fruitless for her. "I take it that it's not poisonous."

The look of distaste returns to his face, "rat piss would have been better than that shit. It should be thrown out the window."

Glancing at the pudding, she would have rather thrown it at his face but makes no move to voice this. Blue orbs study her suspiciously, sending her a warning. "Don't even consider the idea." He moves it farther away from her and out of her reach. "The thought of that shit covering me is revolting."

Neither the septa or Jeyne have returned and this worries her, by now Sansa would have stopped her sniveling.

"You should stop fighting with you sister," he says.

Disbelief clouds her, "And why would I ever stop?"

"You know it's wrong."

"Why? Because family should stand by each other always?" she scoffs. "Save me the preaching, Thor."

"You dislike this."

She stands, walking towards the entrance she couldn't stomach this chastising anymore.

"What would you know?"


End file.
